


for a moment, the world was lighter

by treacherousdoctors



Category: I Was Born for This - Alice Oseman
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Lights, How Do I Tag, just the boys going on a drive together :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2020-12-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:21:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28104639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/treacherousdoctors/pseuds/treacherousdoctors
Summary: it's been a long,longyear. lister decides to take the boys out for a much-needed break.{content warning: references to covid}
Relationships: (if you squint) - Relationship, Allister "Lister Bird & Jimmy Kaga-Ricci & Rowan Omondi, Allister "Lister" Bird/Jimmy Kaga-Ricci
Comments: 7
Kudos: 27





	for a moment, the world was lighter

**Author's Note:**

> this is another random christmassy thing (from a random word generator, this time "lights"). set in 2020, it's just ,,,, a bit of a break. i missed the boys.

“Right!” Lister announces, bursting through the doorway of the living room. “Stop sitting about like a couple of sacks of shite, get dressed. We’re going out.”  
Rowan sits up in his seat, raising an eyebrow. “What the fuck are you on about?”

Lister isn’t wrong - Rowan and I _do_ look a bit sad, lazing about in the same pyjamas we’ve been wearing for a fortnight at least (even if Rowan’s plaid pyjama pants did cost more than my sister’s prom dress). All three of us have been stuck in a bit of a rut for a while now, but how could we not be? The state of this year, it’s a miracle we’re still at all functional.

“What I’m on about,” Lister continues, “is that we’re going out. I’ve got plans.”  
“Are you forgetting the bit where there’s a bloody pandemic?   
Lister just grins. “All outdoors, unlikely to bump into any other human beings. Come on, we need a laugh.”   
“Should we really… risk going out? You know, with fans and everything? If we get noticed, it’ll be all over Twitter in fifteen minutes and we’ll get mobbed. It’s not safe.”

Lister groans and flops onto the sofa between me and Rowan, flinging his arms loosely around our shoulders.

“Think about it, boys. We’re living in an age where it’s encouraged - nay, _demanded_ \- that we cover at least half of our faces at all times. And it’s cold as balls out, so we’ll need hats and whatever. When else are we _ever_ going to get the chance to go out in enough layers to cover every single identifying feature? No managers, no security, no photographers… We can just be us for a bit. _Please._ ”

I glance over at his face, and there’s something unfamiliar behind his eyes -pleading, maybe? Not quite. There’s just this expression of _need_ , and that makes sense.

This year has been tough for all of us. We’ve gone longer than we ever have without seeing our families, and that’s horrible. But for Lister, I think it might be even worse - he’s a social butterfly, gets all his energy from going places and doing things, thrives from seeing people. I’ve been relatively alright, what with my being generally introverted, and in fact I’ve kind of welcomed the lack of partying, interviews, and red carpet events. But I can feel how draining it is for Lister, how much he hates being trapped within the same four walls.

“What did you have in mind?”  
“That’s for me to know and you to find out!” He smirks, leaping back to his feet. “C’mon, Jimothy! Get dressed!”

Rowan seems to take my reluctant willingness as his sign to agree and stands slowly, edging towards his room. I follow suit, and a grin spreads across Lister’s features.

A few minutes later, we’re all in the foyer of our apartment building, wearing layers upon layers to fight against the wind, and masks in place. The doorman nods politely in our direction, but doesn’t seem to have much to say for once. I glance at my reflection in a pane of glass, just to be sure I’m not recognisable. I’m always so wary of going out anywhere, constantly afraid of bad fan encounters or paparazzi stalking.

We make our way through to the garage. 

Being the garage of a private apartment block, occupied by people like us with more money than they know whatto do with, there are plenty of cars here, all manner of expensive vehicles I couldn’t name if I tried. Lister is the car fan of us, though I’m not sure even he knows the extent of what he owns - when we first started making money, _real_ money, he blew a shitload on stuff like this, without much regard for anything other than what it cost. He spent money just to spend it, because it was the first time in his life he’d had the means to do so.

He takes us to the first one he bought. Nothing fancy, just a reliable little tin can that he learned how to drive in. I sometimes forget he actually _can_ drive any of them, because most of the time we go anywhere we’re taken by chauffeurs. It’s quite nice, actually, to think that tonight we’re just being normal.

We’re 21 now, which is young I know, but it’s so, _so_ easy to feel old. We’ve been adults since we were fifteen, and in a career that tends to burn bright and fast, there’s a very good chance we could be retired by 30. Tonight we get to feel like any other 21-year-olds.

As we leave the garage and move down the street, I find myself glancing anxiously out of the window to see if we could be being followed.

“So where are we off to, then?” Rowan asks from the passenger seat.  
“It’s a surprise.”   
“Can we get any clues?” I chime in.   
“Christmas.”   
“ _That’s_ our clue?”   
“Yup.”   
“Lis, it’s mid-December. _Everything_ is Christmas this time of year.”   
“Then you’ll have a fun time guessing!”

We go quiet for a short while as we make our way out of London. It feels like we’re driving for ages, but I’m pretty sure it’s not much more than an hour. Once or twice I go on my phone just to check @ArkUpdates - I hate the account, but it’s the best way of knowing if we’re being stalked. Right now, the most recent post is from two days ago, when Lister posted an Instagram story trying to balance spoons on his nose.

There’s music playing, Lister’s “I WILL SURVIVE” playlist of Christmas songs (every major festive bop, minus Last Christmas by Wham!, because he takes Whammageddon too seriously), and the three of us get pretty into singing along, and by the time he finally pulls into a car park somewhere we’re passionately in the middle of All I Want For Christmas Is You.

“We’ve arrived!”

I see a look of bewilderment cross Rowan’s face, and I imagine I look pretty similar.

“Should I know where we are?”  
“Not necessarily.”   
“Do we know anyone here?” Rowan tries, utterly confused.   
“Mate, can you read?”   
“A bit, yeah.”   
“Then look _around_ . Look up. Where we are is about four foot above your head in _massive_ letters.”

The two of us spin on our heels and look up. There’s a sign overhead, announcing that we’re at the start of a light trail. I turn to Lister and grin.

When we were younger, there was an annual light trail in our town. Just a small one, but the switch-on ceremony was the biggest local event of the year. Next to this display, that looks _rubbish_.

Lister smirks, raising his arms dramatically to guide us through the massive archway that acts as an entrance to the trail. I can hear Christmas carols playing faintly over a tannoy, and the lights seem to change in time with it.

Everything is gorgeous, ethereal even, and it blows any and all 2020-induced sadness away. It feels a bit like magic is real, just for a moment.

There are other people here, but they’re all ages away from us. We have actual space to wander about, just the three of us, cracking jokes and taking photos of one another in front of all the prettiest things. It’s freezing out, but it’s hard to notice when there’s so much giddy warmth bubbling up inside of me. I feel so truly happy for the first time in ages.

At one point, while Rowan is taking a selfie the glow of some particularly flattering lights, Lister sidles up beside me.

“Good surprise?”  
I smile softly, though I know he can’t see under my mask. “Alright, I s’pose.”   
“Prick.” He shoves my shoulder affectionately. “You look like you’re having fun, though.”   
“I am.” I nod. “You have good ideas sometimes.”   
“High praise coming from you.”   
I shrug. “This year has been pretty shit. It’s been less shit doing it with you two.”

Lister nods and turns away, jogging towards Rowan to join him for a photo. I can’t see much of his face, but what I can see appears to be flushed bright red.

Or maybe it’s just the cold.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope this was okay ! lmk what you thought? or don't i'm not ur boss. happy holidays !
> 
> as always, my tumblr is @charliespringverse if you wanna chat/request/etc :^))


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